Under the Upper Hand
by JCBoLt
Summary: I never asked for this fate. I didn't ask to be a part of the ring I just so happen to be stuck in. I barely even had a choice. Every time I win, I'm prepared for another fight, where I try my hardest not to be beaten. Because, when I'm beaten in the ring, I'm beaten at home. So, I try to win. Winning is all I can do. Les Miserables, modern AU. E/E, M/C, R/A. -Another fab by JC.-
1. The Worst Things in Life Come Free to Us

**Welcome to Chapter One of UtUH, my new story. It's a bit intense, but I think you'll enjoy it. Luck be to you as you go with me and read through this story.**

* * *

**ONWARD!**

* * *

Here I go, suiting up to do something I hate to do. There's blood on my hands, I know it. I've never killed, but I've gotten pretty close to it. My hand wraps are yellowed with red blotches on them. It's gotten to the point where I have no idea whose blood is on my wraps. It's nearly gotten to the point that I don't care.

My father yells for me. I don't like calling him "father" any more, honestly. Maybe "Sir," or "Mister Thenardier," but never "father." Not anymore.

I never asked for this fate. I didn't ask to be a part of the ring I just so happen to be stuck in. I barely even had a choice. To my father, it was either this or selling myself for the pleasure of men. I chose the most honest business I could.

However, I found that it wasn't as honest as I hoped. Every time I win, I'm prepared for another fight, where I try my hardest not to be beaten. Because, when I'm beaten in the ring, I'm beaten at home. So, I try to win. Winning is all I can do.

My pay depends on my wins. And, luckily, my father gives me some of that money to tend to my wounds. And, I assure you, when I fight; I end up with plenty of wounds to tend to.

Right now, I'm in the ring with an old competitor: Montparnasse. He used to be much more than a competitor. I might have considered him a friend, if not for his terrible breath and wandering hands. I knew what he wanted of me, yet, he was the only person I knew who "understood" me.

But after I rejected him, he's bitter. And his bitterness becomes rage that he uses in the rink. He's used it for months to get into the final four. And I know I can't expect any less than plenty of broken bones. But, if there's anything I'm not, it's scared.

Eponine Thenardier is never scared.

Montparnasse is strong, but not strong enough. I know that something's happened to my ribs, but I'm safe, for now. Because I won. So, for the moment, I'm untouchable.

* * *

"Grantaire, this is not only unethical, but it's illegal."

"C'mon, Killjoy, it's cheaper than your so-called 'legal' fights. You know, I hear that Bahorel is fighting tonight in this… eh… league." I run my hands up my face, my fingers pushing into my hair. I can't stand the "hobbies" of my peer group. Paying for people to fight or to have sex with you is wrong.

"Whatever," I grumble, obviously stuck with a drunken Grantaire for the rest of the night. I'm always stuck being the designated driver for my idiotic friends.

"Good. You're driving." I groan, loading into Grantaire's black Jeep. Luckily, I don't get myself lost on the way to his stupid illegal fight. I've already assured him that, if this gets out of hand, I'm pulling out my badge.

"Oh, we got here just in time for the championship," Grantaire says, running into the "rink" like a seven year old boy at Disney World. It's awful. The floors are concrete, the walls are concrete, and the rinks are concrete. And all of this concrete is stained red with the blood of people who can't find honest work. This apparently includes my close friend Bahorel.

"On the right side of the rink, coming in at 81 kilograms, is Eric Bahorel, who comes in as fresh blood to spill." All of the spectators boo him loudly.

"Why are they booing him?" I ask Grantaire. "He's huge and hulking."

"They find it far more entertaining than cheering for their fighters." That doesn't make any sense. These people are mad. "But here's the one they cheer for. Thenardier." I'm expecting a 100-kilogram bodybuilder with football sized muscles and ACDC background music blasting through the stereos.

"And on the left side of the rink, your reigning champion, coming in at 41 kilograms-" I can't believe this guy could ever be a champion of anything. He's tiny! "-Eponine Thenardier!" This time, an overwhelming wave of cheering resonates from the crowd. That must be why he's so tiny. Because _he_ is a _she._ I take it we've missed a couple of fights today, because this "Eponine" is covered in blood and bruises. "FIGHT!"

At that single word, the room might as well have exploded with cheering. Bahorel looks caught off guard by the fact that he's fighting a girl. The first punch comes from the left side, connecting painfully with Bahorel's jaw. He spits out a fair amount of blood onto the concrete floor, his DNA being added to the collection of red stains. Another fist connects with his chest, then his stomach. He falls to the ground while "Eponine" pummels him into the concrete.

"GET UP, BAHOREL!" Grantaire screams. I roll my eyes, knowing all too well that Bahorel has no chance.

* * *

I don't think anything about the bloodied man that crawls desperately out of the rink. He's simply another win; another thousand dollars to go towards my broken ribs.

"Hey, Thenardier!" I turn at the sound of my name, trying to locate the obviously intoxicated voice. It's not a familiar voice. I always remember the voices of my attackers. "Yeah, you." I go towards the unfamiliar, dark-haired, rather tan-skinned man. He looks kind enough. Of all the people that come in to the rinks and call my name, he's actually looking at my face. "You gave my friend Bahorel quite the beating."

"Oh, you knew that guy? I swear he ain't any sort of fighter. Keep him out of the rink, you should." I study the man standing in front of me a little more. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, giving me the idea that he's not some stupid rich boy. His dark hair and goatee are extremely unkempt and he has a metal flask secured to his belt. I think I can guess what's in that.

"Yeah, I figured that. The name's Richard Grantaire. I'm mostly called R." He sticks out his hand for a handshake, but I jump away from it with a squeak, thinking that he's going to strike me. "Uh, alright then."

"S-Sorry. I'm still kind of… on edge, ya know?" He nods. I glance at the bored-looking man standing next to him, staring off into space. His friend is blonde, definitely not as tan as he is, and has the build of one of those Greek statues I've seen in museums. He looks more like the rich boys I was talking about, with his white dress shirt with sleeves that are rolled up to his elbows and his black dress pants. "Who's he? Some sort of Apollo?"

"Gabriel Enjolras. I don't suppose you want to shake my hand?"

"Nah, I'll pass, Apollo." Gabriel glares at me and I smirk. "Maybe I'll see y'all again." I want to stop talking now, considering the fact that every word that I say feels like a dagger is being plunged into my chest.

"Are you alright?" Gabriel- er, Apollo- asks.

"What d'you mean?"

"He means: do you need medical attention? We know a doctor who would gladly fix you up, free of charge." Grantaire holds out his hand again. "We could take you there. The Jeep isn't entirely full." I eye his outstretched hand apprehensively. "C'mon, we don't bite. Well, Enjolras might, but I don't." Gabriel/Apollo/Enjolras turns his glare onto his dark-haired friend.

I finally decide on pushing his hand away. "Nah, I'm fine. Just a few bruises, the normal injuries." That's a lie. "Ain't nothing bad enough to hurt Eponine Thenardier."

"Well, ah, alright then. We do hope to see you again, Eponine." I shrug nonchalantly. Then, I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at both men.

"Don't count on it, R." And at that, I run off. If I don't get my money, I won't live to regret talking to those men. My father congratulates me, smacking my back in a shallow form of congratulations. I jump at his touch, gently rubbing my thumb against my now-burning ribs.

"Nice work. We earned ten thousand on bets today."

"And how much of that do I get?" He rolls his eyes, irritated.

"Six." My eyes widen. I never get that much from fights. I guess _Father_ is getting a higher profit from the drug business lately, or perhaps my sister's… job. Unlike me, Azelma chose not to fight. She went with the other choice. Even though she chose a different path, dropping out of school and going on the streets as a sixteen year old, I still protect her to the best of my abilities.

"Um…"

"You're welcome."

* * *

"JOLY, I'M BACK!" My "regular doctor" sighs, giving me his normal worried look.

"Eponine, you've got to quit doing this to yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, lecture me while you're fixing me, okay?"

"Whatever. What did you do this time around?"

"Broken ribs, I think. I don't know what else." He smacks his forehead with his palm.

"Get over here."

* * *

**A/N: Alright, that's it for now. I hope you like this. This idea came to me after watching Bones, and then I had a dream about it, and it's been haunting me ever since. This story is going to be really intense, if you didn't notice. Review for me, please! Tell me what you think, and if I should continue. **

**Now, Thenardier can't always be a lovely guy like in TMoE&C, so he's a main villain in this, as well as Montparnasse, maybe. Have a very spectacular day, and while you're at it, check out my other stories (shameless self promotion). The title is from the fabulous song, The A Team by Ed Sheeran. That's another base for this story.**

**So, all credit to Bones, my subconscious, and Ed Sheeran. And, of course, to the people who created Les Miserables. **

**-JC, the one who promotes her own stories.**


	2. It's Too Cold Outside

I shiver wildly as I walk down the street, trying to find Azelma. It's far too cold for anyone to be out here. I turn around and realize that a black Jeep has been following me this whole time. I stop for a moment and the Jeep pulls up beside me. The window rolls down to reveal a familiar dark-haired man.

"Hey, need a lif- Thenardier?"

"What d'you knows? It's you, that guy I met at the rink. How 'bout that?"

"My offer still stands. I've got a place you might like to see." I crinkle my nose, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. I'm trying not to shiver again, but I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans in snow. I don't have any shoes on, for God's sake. I hear the click of a lock and R smiles. "Come on in. Remember, I don't bite." I open the passenger door apprehensively.

"Okay, I'm in. You ain't gonna steal my money and kill me, right?" R chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Of course not. You need that money more than I do, Shoeless. I'd just waste it on beer. Well, if you call beer a waste." He winks at me, revving up the engine with a turn of the key. I allow myself to laugh, which is honestly not a normal occurrence. "Buckle your seatbelt. Wouldn't want to get pulled over, now would we? Then the officer would be able to tell how much I drank before I started driving."

"R, I hasn't taken any safety precautions since first grade."

"Well, today is the perfect day to break that streak. It's either that or break the law." I shrug, unlocking the door. He gives me a weird look and I shrug again.

"What? I ain't able to trust no one that easy."

"Not even a man as attractive as me?" I laugh again and he gives me a look of feigned hurt. "Hey! I'm sexy and I know it!"

"God, stop making me laugh!" I look out the window and suddenly spot exactly who I was looking for- Azelma. "Stop the car, stop the car, that's my sister!" The Jeep comes to a screeching halt that makes me fly forward into the dashboard.

"What did I tell you? Buckle your seatbelt." I glare at him and roll down the window.

"Zelma, c'mon!" She shoots me a grin and runs over to the Jeep.

"Where'd you come from?"

"It don't matter. Now, get in." Azelma was lucky enough to be born after me, which meant she got a better education than me, as well as more money, as well as more of our parents' love. She actually has a coat and shoes on at the moment.

"Who is this, your boyfriend?"

"Azelma, I don't have no boyfriend, and you know it." She grins again and gives R a seductive smile.

"Oh good, he's single." R raises an eyebrow at me.

"What did I tell you?" He points at himself, grinning insanely. "Sexy." I burst out laughing again and Azelma gasps.

"Eponine Thenardier, laughing? Oh, this is just impossible. Are you sure this guy isn't your boyfriend?"

"NO!"

"Okay, I'm going to start driving. Seatbelts?" R gives me a pointed look that I return with a glare.

"I've got mine on. Ponine?" I scoff at Azelma and click the strip of fabric over my chest.

"Are you happy?" I ask Grantaire. He grins at me.

"Very happy."

"God, this might be the most uncomfortable thing I have ever worn in my life."

"Well, at least you're safe," Grantaire says. I shrug, fiddling with the uncomfortable thing.

"I don't care. I hate it."

"We're almost there. Calm down, Ponine." I glare at my new friend of the opposing gender.

"Don't call me that."

"B-But… Azelma called you Po-"

"_No_."

* * *

"Alright, we're here." Finally! Thank God. I rip off the seatbelt, basically flying out of the car.

"I HATE SEATBELTS." Azelma rolls her eyes and steps out of the Jeep.

"So, what exactly is this place? Some sort of Bohemian Café?"

"Very close. We're… anarchists, of a sort." My ears perk up. "We aren't huge fans of the current government."

"I'm in." I glance at Azelma.

"Well… If you're going in, I don't really have any better thing to do."

"Ah, you found them. I was wondering when you'd actually get Thenardier and her sister to come here." I glance over to the man I beat to a pulp last week.

"How did you know I haves a sister?" He grimaces and looks away guiltily.

"Well…" Oh God. "I… I'm sorry… I-"

"Nope. Nope. Whatever." I hate this. I bet at least half of the men in this room have paid for my sister's _services_. "Baiser, Azelma. Really?" Azelma holds up her hands in surrender.

"A girl has to eat."

"Eat _what_?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Don't go there, Ponine." I notice that Apollo is here as well, which shocks me.

"Why are you here? You work for the government, Apollo." His eyes widen.

"How in the world could you tell that?" I cross my arms over my chest and walk over to him, reaching unashamedly into his front pocket. "HEY!" I pull out an FBI badge and flash it in his face.

"Nothing else leaves such a huge bulge in someone's pocket. Not even one of them huge Galaxy smart phones."

"I'm impressed. You're very observant. We could use someone like you on the force." I scoff at him.

"Really? You can't fight crime when you commit it almost every night. That fight that you went to last week? Yeah, that was illegal." I hold out my hands, palms up.

"What?"

"Well, go ahead and arrest me. Whatever. I deserve it."

"No, you don't. I highly doubt you actually _want_ to fight for money. It's not your fault you don't have sufficient funds. I'll turn a blind eye, just like when Feuilly comes in with a bag of white powder hanging out of his back pocket."

"Thanks," I say quietly, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Any time. As long as you're loyal, we'll be good." I shoot him an awkward salute.

"Loyal 'til the end. Like a Hufflepuff." He chuckles and hands Azelma and I cloth pins that are red, white, and blue. "What is this?"

"It's a cockade. Pin it on your shirt. It's like a voting button," Azelma explains, obviously showing off how much smarter she is than me. I scoff and pin the "cockade" to my shirt.

"Like this?"

"Exactly like that," Grantaire says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. I flinch away from him, grabbing his wrist. I throw him onto the hardwood floor of the café instinctually. "Hehe… Sorry. Should've known that I would spook you."

"No, no, I'm fine." I grab his hand, pulling him off of the floor. "Sorry."

"Seriously, you'd be awesome in the Bureau."

"No."

* * *

**-JC, the one who, for some reason, didn't write any A/N on this one.**


	3. Burnt Lungs, Sour Taste

**A/N: Oh man, oh man. Here comes the romance. Oh man. I'm excited. How about you?**

* * *

**ONWARD!**

* * *

"You really shouldn't do that, you know." I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at Apollo, my newly lit cigarette hanging out of my hand between my index and middle finger.

"Shouldn't do what?"

"Smoke. You really shouldn't smoke."

"I'm 25, Apollo. It's perfectly legal." I take a long drag of the smoke, blowing it in his face. He glares at me, sneezing.

"Yeah, but it's not healthy." I scoff and he rolls his eyes.

"Do I care about _healthy_?"

"You really should. You're far too pretty to die of lung cancer." My eyes widen and I go silent.

"_What_?" His mouth opens and closes multiple times like a fish out of water.

"I… uh… you… youshouldreallycareaboutyourhealth," he stammers. He about runs off, but I grab his wrist. Just the touch sends a bolt of electricity up my arm.

"Wait. If you ain't a big fan of me smoking, how 'bout you help me stop?" He nods awkwardly, wrenching his arm out of my grasp.

"I, um, sure, why not?" He runs back into the café, not even looking back. My eyebrows furrow slightly and I look down at the cigarette in my hand. _Too pretty?_ No way. I take another drag of the smoke before stomping it out with the heel of my old work boot. If I'm going to quit, I might as well stop here. I pull my fleece scarf a bit tighter around my neck to keep out the chill. Apollo gave it to me two days ago because he "noticed that I was cold," and I honestly haven't wanted to take it off since. Even though it's plaid and purple, I really like it. It keeps me warm and often hides the red handprint marks on my neck.

I already miss the intense heat in my chest that I get from my cigarette. I almost consider picking up the smashed one off of the pavement. That must be a sign of addiction. I reluctantly walk into the café, taking a huge gulp of the beer I left on the counter.

"Hey, Thenardier. Done smoking now, are you?" Grantaire slurs, spinning around on his barstool to face me with a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Yeah, done for now. Apollo's wanting me to quit." I jump up on the stool next to him, grabbing the bottle again.

"Hold on. You hold the neck of your beer bottle?" I raise an eyebrow and nod.

"Got a problem?"

"No, it's just weird. What kind of drinker are you?"

"Not a chronic drinker, that's for sure. I save that for the cigarettes. So." I slam my beer bottle back on the counter. I'm glad it didn't shatter. "I've been coming here for, oh, I dunno, a week? Tell me 'bout everybody here."

"Alright. That's Feuilly." He points at a brown haired man with a black beanie pulled on over messy, light brown, chin length hair. His eyes are bloodshot. I think I know what that means. "He's a great guy. Really sweet. Does meth sometimes, but don't let that fool you. He's really nice." He motions towards the very attractive guy standing next to Feuilly. He has curly black hair and thick sideburns. "That's Courfeyrac. He's a huge player. Probably has, like, twelve girls that think he wants to marry them. What they don't know, though, is that he's gay." His finger moves to a very tall man with blonde, shoulder length hair pulled into a low ponytail. He's the only one wearing thick hipster-style glasses. Courfeyrac has his arm around his shoulders. "Combeferre is a huge nerd. Sits around reading and writing fanfiction all the time. He's Courf's boyfriend. It's the only relationship that Courf is actually committed to." I chuckle, motioning for him to go on. "Alright, um, that's Joly." He motions towards a very well dressed man who has the face of a twelve year old boy. His dark hair is brushed back awkwardly. "He's germaphobic. Or afraid of germs or whatever that's actually called. Don't smoke around him."

"Yeah, I knows Joly. He's my doctor for when I get all torn up after a fight." Grantaire nods.

"Oh really? Small world. And that one," he says, pointing at a strawberry blonde guy with his long hair pulled into a braid, "Is Jean Prouvaire. We call him Jehan… or Rapunzel. He's a poet. Hangs around at coffee shops doing poetry slams. It's crazy." He's got a couple purple flowers woven into the braid that is partially slung over his shoulder. I think that he's the last person until I see a very familiar auburn-haired boy hanging around Courfeyrac. The top of his head comes up to Courfeyrac's shoulder. His hair looks very different now, spiked up with a thick coat of hair gel, but he's still noticeable. "Oh, yeah. That's our youngest member. He's fifteen. His name is-"

"GAVROCHE!" Gavroche turns around quickly, giving me a weird look. I run over to him and wrap my arms around him tightly.

"Um… Hi! I… um…"

"It's me, Ponine!" His eyes light up with recognition and he wraps his arms around me.

'Oh my God, Ponine, I haven't seen you in years! I barely recognized you! What's up with that hat?" Oh, I almost forgot that I stole Apollo's FBI hat yesterday. He let me keep it.

"Oh, that's Apollo's… or, Enjolras's." I let go of him, trying to keep the hug un-awkward. "Have you seen Zelma yet?"

"Yeah. Grantaire was showing her around after their date." My eyes widen and I shoot a glare at Grantaire.

"Excuse me?" I walk over to Grantaire, punching him in the shoulder extremely hard. "Since when were you dating my sister?"

"Since yesterday? We got dinner. By the way, OW!" I roll my eyes and take another gulp of my beer. "Seriously, holding beer like that is really weird."

"Dude, Zelma is 22! Is that even legal?"

"Of course it is! I'm only 26. How old do you think I am, 40?" I nod.

"Yes. I do think you're 40." He glares at me while I laugh my head off. Things are so much funnier after two bottles of beer.

"Hey, Athena, come here for a second." I turn at the sound of Apollo's voice. He started calling me Athena because of my nickname for him.

"Yeah? What d'you need?" He shrugs awkwardly.

"Just… come outside for a second." I roll my eyes and pull my box of Marlboro out of my pocket. I light up another cigarette, inhaling its smoke deeply. "I do need you to stop doing that."

"It's an addiction. I can't help it. I need the smoke."

"There are far better things that you can be addicted to." Before I can question what that means, he leans and kisses me.

* * *

**A/N: BOOP! ROMANCE. OMGNSFLERCMIRUWemrcI freaking yes. I love it. That was, like, the best one liner I have ever heard. Their romance moved a little quickly, yes, but I like it. I love it, actually. So, guys, which ship is your favorite so far? Azelma/Grantaire, Eponine/Enjolras, or Combeferre/Courfeyrac? Leave your answer in the reviews!**

**DOLPHINS.**

**-JC, the one who decided to yell "Dolphins."**


	4. Struggling to Pay Rent

**A/N: For CBuscus, who is exploding because of Next to Normal.**

**ONWARD**

* * *

"Agent. You're late," my partner says, glaring at me. She hates it when I'm late.

"I got caught up by… something," I say, straightening my tie from where Eponine loosened it and hastily tried to retie it.

"With something… or some_one_?" Cosette hates a lot of things. She hates when anyone is late, tired, or in an intimate relationship. She says, and I quote, "Relationships mess with your concentration. They break you down and make you useless."

"Something." Cosette leans forward and I lean back awkwardly. She takes a deep breath through her nose and gives me a disgusted look.

"Have you started smoking?" Oh God. Eponine made my breath smell like smoke. My clothes probably smell like it, too.

"No. My gir- My _friend_ smokes around me often." She gives me a judgmental look and I shrug. "My friends are crazy." She certainly is.

* * *

"There's a robbery at First National Bank on Fifth Street. The gang is armed and has hostages. Both hostages are young women. All units are needed." Cosette and I run to the squad jeep, jumping in and turning on the sirens. Hostages are a big deal.

We arrive at the bank where a familiar red haired man is standing with a gun held to a very, very familiar brunette girl's head. _Eponine._ She steps on his foot and squirms out of his arms, going after Azelma. There's a loud crack and she grabs her shoulder with a loud cry.

Thenardier yells out a curse and shoots at her again. This one hits her leg with a sickening crack. She keeps running, trying to escape another shot.

"What are you doing? Get out of the car!" Cosette yells. I jump out and all of the masked gang points their guns at us. Except for a brown haired man dressed like Jack the Ripper. He has his gun pointed at Azelma's chest.

"Step any closer and I'll shoot the girl." I hold up my gun like Cosette.

"We're armed too," Cosette says.

"Take any shots," a gruff voice says, "And both of the girls will die." He nods towards the ginger haired man, who turns his gun on Eponine. He pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. "YOUR GUN WAS EMPTY?" There's another crack of a shot and Ginger crumples to the ground at Eponine's feet.

"No," Eponine croaks. Jack fires and Eponine screams, limping over to Azelma. She grabs Jack's throat, pushing him onto the ground. "MONTPARNASSE, HOW DARE YOU? I'LL KILL YOU!" She punches him mercilessly, stepping on his throat. He flails wildly, grabbing at her legs. "Do you see me? DO YOU SEE ME? THIS IS THE LAST THING YOU'LL EVER SEE!"

"Eponine, stop," a quiet female voice demands. She immediately releases "Montparnasse" and kneels next to Azelma. He holds his gun to her back, but before he can shoot, I shoot him in the arm. I'm trying not to kill any of them. Ginger is dead, but that's the only casualty we need. The SWAT team pulls them into a prison van while their defense is down.

"Someone help!" Eponine shouts, holding her hands to the bloody wound in Azelma's chest. I run over to them, holding my hands against Eponine's bleeding shoulder and leg. She's not even paying attention to the fact that she's losing a ton of blood.

"It's okay, Ponine. It's okay. I'm okay," Azelma says, gasping for air. "You'll be okay."

"Azelma, don't close your eyes… Stay with me… You can make it… Right?" She looks at me. I know that Azelma's going to die, even if she goes to the hospital. She won't make it.

"Um, yeah."

"P-Ponine… You have to…"

"What? What do I gotta do? I'll do anything, Azelma. Anything." Azelma grabs Eponine's wrists that are pressed against her wound.

"Y-You… Q-Quit smoking… P-Please…"

"Okay, okay."

"P-Promise."

"I promise, Azelma. I promise." Azelma nods.

"T-Tell Grantaire… T-Tell him I love him…"

"No, Azelma, stop, you're gonna live. You ain't gonna die. Y-You can't even drink yet. You can marry Grantaire. I… I'll give you away… I'll help you buy a dress…"

"Y-You would b-b-be my maid of honor…" Eponine squeezes her eyes shut, obviously fighting back tears. "Apollo c-could c-come too. B-But you've… you have to stop… stop smoking. F-For me." Azelma's voice starts to fade and Eponine presses harder on her chest, making her arm bleed even more.

"I will. I promised, Azelma. I will. I'mma stop." Azelma looks at me and smiles.

"Take care of her," she whispers. I nod and Azelma starts to close her eyes.

"No… No. Azelma, stay awake. Stay awake." Azelma shakes her head no.

"Sorry, Ponine." She closes her eyes and Eponine starts pounding on Azelma's chest.

"NO! GOD, NO! WAKE UP! AZELMA!" She leans over her sister, her tears spilling onto Azelma's blood red shirt. "I'll kill him… Babet's gonna pay… Thenardier's gonna pay… They're all gonna pay… I'll kill all of 'em." Cosette walks over and glances at me curiously.

"What happened?" She whispers. She motions towards Eponine, who has decided to bury her face in my chest and sob. "Who's this?"

"Eponine. She's… She's my girlfriend." Cosette sighs and shakes her head.

"You know how I feel about relationships…"

"That doesn't matter right now, okay, Fauchevalent? Her sister is dead! Show some respect!" I shout, suddenly defensive. "Call the ambulance, for God's sake!" I lay a thrashing, protesting Eponine on a gurney. She's screaming desperately for Azelma.

* * *

"Azelma was the best sister anyone could've got. She was loving and real selfless. She was real easy to like and real easy to fall in love with." I glance over at Grantaire with a sad smile. "She cared about everybody and wanted all of us to be healthy. Before she… uh, ya know… she told me I had to stop my smoking. So I'm doing that for her. Because she always wanted me to be safe and healthy. She acted like my mom… even though she's a couple years younger than me. Well… was. B-But I loved her… an-and we're all gonna miss her."

I go sit down by Apollo, wiping my eyes. I hand him the box of cigarettes I keep in my pockets. "Bury these." He stares at me with a smile.

"You're really going to quit?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna quit. Azelma meant that much to me." He nods and squeezes my hand.

"Good. I was starting to always smell like smoke. Not that that was bad or anything-" I cover his mouth with my hand.

"Just shut up."

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**A/N: OKAY COURTNEY YOU CAN STFU AND UPDATE NOW.**

**-JC, THE ONE WHO UPDATED.**


	5. Slowly Sinking, Wasting

**A/N: The rating is up. Too many trigger warnings, possible swearing. Sorry, guys. This story is super intense. Haven't ever had a rated M story. Triggers: Cutting, suicide, death, etc. This feels weird. But this story has to be as real as I can make it. It may tear out your heart, but I write because I feel. **

**Man, that sounds cheesy.**

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**Onward!**

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She really did stop smoking. It took a lot, but she quit- after five months. She's kind of hung up on chewing gum now, but at least that won't kill her. However, Azelma's death has taken quite a toll on her. She's introverted and quiet and refuses to let me walk her home any more.

She lives alone now. I have an idea to change that. We're hanging out in the café, Eponine oddly wearing long pants and a sweatshirt- my sweatshirt- in the middle of July.

"Well… I should go. I'll see ya tomorrow, Apollo." She goes to stand up but I stop her.

"Eponine, how about you don't? Come live with me." Her eyes widen and she flips her hair out of her face. She got a short haircut a couple of days after Azelma died. It's to her shoulders and her bangs are brushed over to the side, just long enough to hang in her eyes. She's kept it that way ever since.

"What?"

"Come on, Ep. You live alone- you're not safe. And I love you!" Her hands start shaking slightly. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothin's wrong. Don't ya think… it's a bit sudden?" I shake my head no.

"I'm just looking out for you." I wrap my arms around her waist and notice how small she is. "Ep… Please?"

"Enjolras… I can't, okay? I just can't." She squirms out of my grip. "I have to go. I'm not paying all of the rent for nothing. Gavroche lives there, too." She turns around, so I grab her wrist. She shrieks and yanks her wrist away. Her sleeve rolls up, exposing about ten bandages that are stuck to her wrist. "What's that?"

"Nothing. Nothing, I swear, Apollo." She yanks her sleeve back down. I take her hand.

"It's not nothing. You can't go on like this, Eponine. You're basically a mother to Gavroche."

"Why do you think I spend all of my money on him? I protect him. I… I…"

"Move in with me, Ep. I'll take care of both of you. I promise. Maybe I'll actually get enough money to keep you fed." She looks totally mortified.

"How…"

"You are moving in with me. You can't say no. I won't take it." She opens her mouth to protest. "No. Go pack. I'll go get Gavroche."

"Wait! You-You can't tell Gav about… uh…" I sigh when she motions towards her arm.

"I won't." She runs off, obviously going to her apartment that she loves so much. She calls it her "loft." She's never been to my house. I've only been to her tiny, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment. Poor girl sleeps on the couch so that Gavroche has a bed. I follow Eponine with Gavroche on my heels.

She hops in my car, waiting expectantly for me to drive her home. When we get to her building, she jumps out of the car, running into apartment 4H. She opens the door, smiling at the sight of the familiar disgustingly off-white walls.

"I'm gonna miss this place." I glance around the living room awkwardly. It's very clean, to be honest. Eponine's "bed" (read as: couch) is in the middle of the room. It has three holes in it, all patched up by silver duct tape that stands out against the brownish-yellow fabric. One hole in a back cushion of the couch is overflowing with yellow stuffing, despite being covered by an X of duct tape. The tape on a seat cushion is peeling slightly. The wooden part of the right leg of the couch is gone, so it's being held up by Physics and Math textbooks and a brick. The center back cushion is missing. There's an extremely old TV in front of the couch on a coffee table. There's a large crack in the TV. It's plugged into a VCR and a cable box, which is off- probably for good. That's the only furniture in the room.

"Why?" Gavroche asks. "It still smells like smoke in here." Eponine shrugs.

"I like the place. It's… homey."

"Go pack." They both pack only one small bag. "Um, alright. Let's go." When they walk into my house, both of their jaws drop.

"Your house is huge," Eponine whispers. I don't have the heart to tell her that my house is actually pretty small. She looks too excited. Gavroche immediately settles into the empty bedroom. I lead Eponine to my bedroom and she stops in the doorway. "I'm staying in your room?" I nod.

"It's the only other room. You are not sleeping on the couch or in the basement. I'm perfectly okay with you sleeping in my bed." What I'm not telling her is that there's an extra room that I use as my office. Honestly, I want her to be in here with me so I can watch over her. She unpacks quickly.

"Can I go take a shower?" I nod, walking into my personal bathroom for a second so that I can pocket the razor she left on the sink.

"Go ahead." She runs the water, locking the door behind her. After a while, I hear a frustrated shriek. A very angry looking, soaking wet Eponine steps out of the bathroom. She's wrapped in a towel and there's shampoo in her hair.

"Where the hell is my razor?" She demands, glaring at me. I'm completely unscathed. An angry Eponine is a very cute Eponine.

"What are you going to do with it?" She sighs, burying her face in her hands.

"I'm trying to shave my legs, Enjolras. Is that too much to ask? Or do you want a hairy girlfriend?" I cringe, rather disgusted by the image that puts in my head.

"You're only going to do that?" She nods.

"Scouts honor. I swear. Now, will you just give me the stupid thing?" I sigh and reach into my pocket, handing her the razor. "Thank you." After a while, she emerges from the bathroom again, handing me her razor. "Don't give it back 'til I need it." I hug her tightly, burying my nose in her wet hair.

"Did you use my shampoo?" She nods and I chuckle. "It smells good."

"Thanks. For everything. For letting Gav and I stay with ya, and taking care of us. You're the best."

"You want to go eat? I'm ordering a pizza." She shrugs.

"I'm not really hungry." I shoot her a glare and raise an eyebrow when a loud rumbling sound comes from her stomach. "That doesn't mean anything," she protests weakly.

"It means that you've been starving yourself so that your brother can eat. So, what kind of pizza do you like?" She sighs in defeat.

"Sausage." I lean down and kiss her, smiling.

"There we go." I order a whole sausage pizza and a whole cheese- Gavroche's favorite. I also order a couple of breadsticks. They both immediately start eating as if they've never even seen food before. When Eponine is eating the last piece of her pizza, she looks up at me guiltily. I'm nibbling aimlessly on a breadstick.

"You didn't want any, did ya?" She asks, her mouth still full of food. I shake my head no.

"It's all yours." After dinner, I teach Gavroche how to turn on the TV in his room and how to use the X-Box. He gets a hang of Call of Duty immediately. He's so hung up on the game, I don't think he even notices how angry his sister looks.

"Gavroche, you had better not play that past midnight or I swear-"

"Mmhmm, yeah," he says, not turning away from the game. "This is so cool!"

"You have school tomorrow," I tell him. "Listen to your sister."

"Oh, okay." Eponine smiles at me and follows me out of the room, shutting off the lights and closing the door to block out the sounds of the game. She changes into a pair of shorts and one of my shirts that I insisted she wore.

"How did you pay for that apartment?" I ask her as she settles into our now shared bed.

"I fought. I told you I wouldn't… but… I needed the money, and-"

"It's okay. Now you don't have to." I lie down behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She stiffens, but then she snuggles into my embrace, curling up against me. "Good night, Eponine." She nods with a small hum.

"Good night." And with that, she falls asleep in my arms, safe for the first time in a long time.

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**A/N: Cheesy, but I love it with all of my heart. How about you guys? You think the rating should go up, or no? I'll wait for your responses before I change it.**

**-JC, the one who doesn't really want this to be M rated.**


	6. They Scream

**A/N: Nones.**

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**ONWARD!**

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I hear the front door swing open and grin. Enjolras is home. He's decided to pick up Gavroche every day after school. Contrary to what a very drunk Grantaire told me, Gavroche is eleven, not fifteen. I tried to fix something for dinner, but after burning two cans of ravioli, I ordered take-out. McDonald's is pretty good, right?

"McDonald's?" Gavroche asks.

"I can't cook worth a damn, Gav." He shrugs and Enjolras plops down at the table, throwing a file folder on the table. He starts to go through it and I pluck it out of his hands, placing it on top of the refrigerator by standing on the counter. "No case files at the table."

"Well, excuse me, Miss Thenardier."

"Yes?" I stick my tongue out at him and he rolls his eyes. "I've told you a million times not to bring your work to dinner. It's annoying."

"You do realize that I can reach that, right?" I nod.

"I'm short, but I also have knives. _No_ case files at the table."

Enjolras just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Whatever you say, Madame Queen." I shoot him a glare and plop down at the table.

"You can't be against the king if you are the king," Gavroche says. I grin and point at him.

"Eleven years old and he's still smarter than you, Enjolras. Thank you, Gavroche, my wonderful little brother." I ruffle his hair and he swats my hand away.

"Can you not do that?"

"I have to. You out-logicked my boyfriend." Enjolras scoots his chair back from the table and starts to get up. "No, don't be lame, Apollo, I was just joking."

"No, no, I can tell when I'm not wanted…" He gives a slight smile as he stands up. My face falls when he walks away. He gets his folder from on top of the refrigerator and walks to his study.

"What's up with Mr. Grouchy-Pants?" Gav asks.

"Like I know…"

Gav just shrugs and goes back to eating. I pick at my food, but I honestly can't bring myself to eat any of it. I push my chair back too and walk to the closed study. I stand outside the door for a few seconds and then knock on the doorframe. I hear movement like furniture moving and then the door opens.

"What was that all about?" I ask, hurt by his sudden rudeness.

"What was what about?" Enjolras rubs the back of his neck with a sigh.

"Gabriel Enjolras, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Why the hell were you being so awful?"

"I'm being awful?" Enjolras bites back. My eyebrows furrow together.

"What do you mean?" I ask quietly.

"I'm just asking what you mean!" Enjolras acts all defensive.

"Did I do something wrong? I mean, I just don't really understand why you're so upset."

Enjolras sighs. "No… It's not you… It's my work… I just need some time to cool off."

"Can you tell me what's going on? I just want to help." I rest my hand on his shoulder. He shakes his head and turns around, causing my hand to fall.

"Can you just leave me _alone_, Eponine?" He snaps.

"No, I really _can't_, Enjolras. You're my boyfriend. We're supposed to trust each other, dammit! We're basically family! And I don't know how you think trust is not telling me anything that goes on at work." I glare at him, certain that my face is red by now.

"You're one to talk about _family_, Eponine."

I feel like someone just shot me in the chest. It gets worse when Enjolras slams the door right in my face. I'm left staring at the door, confused and hurt, angry tears in my eyes. I have no idea what possessed him and made him think he could treat me like that. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. I don't realize I'm crying until I feel something wet hit my hand. I hear Gav open the door and a female voice talking. I don't recognize who it is until I see Gavroche leading a blonde girl to Enjolras's study.

"He should be right in there," Gavroche mumbles shyly. She grins and knocks on the door.

"Eponine, I told you I wanted to be alo-" He opens the door to find not me, but Cosette, Marius's newest infatuation. "Oh, hi Cos..." My fists clench at my sides. I'm not normally a jealous person, but he's being far kinder to Cosette than he is to his own girlfriend. I stomp off, digging my fingernails into my palms before I say anything that I shouldn't. I decide to eavesdrop, considering I have never been a trusting person.

"So, I got your text, what's up?" I hear Cosette say. So he was texting Cosette now. I bite my lip to prevent myself from going over there and demanding answers.

"Yeah, I need to talk to you…" He pulls Cosette into his office and I can't hear him anymore. So, naturally, I punch the wall. I'm about to get closer when I hear Cosette's raised voice. She's yelling at him about some secret. He tries to apologize, but she doesn't want to hear it.

I look down at my hand, which is feeling substantially wet now. _Joy_. My knuckles are bleeding. "_Dammit!_" Cosette storms out of the study with Enjolras on her tail.

"Cos, just let me explain!" I run into the kitchen, shakily turning on the sink and running my cut up hand under the stream of cold water. _I'm bleeding profusely, _I think, vaguely remembering one of the lines from the play I was in during middle school.

"You had one job, Enjolras. One job." She walks through the kitchen and out the side door.

Enjolras shakes his head and walks upstairs, slamming the door to his room. I wrap my hand in gauze and follow him upstairs.

"Enjolras, please let me in," I whisper through the door. A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal a tired looking Enjolras.

"What?" He asks, exasperated.

"Will you please tell me what's wrong? _Please_?" He sighs.

"It's nothing, Ep. Just work." He glances down at my hand. "What'd you do?"

"It's nothing, Enj," I mock him angrily. "Just. Work." He looks at me, finally realizing how much he hurt me. His face softens.

"Oh, Ep. I'm sorry! I've just had this huge case and Cosette's mad at me and I guess I was letting my anger out on you."

"Well, uh, I kind of let my anger out on the wall, so…" He shakes his head and laughs, pulling me into a hug.

"I'm sorry 'Ponine." He lightly rubs his thumb over my knuckles. "Did you really punch the wall, though?" I nod. "You're an idiot," he says lovingly. He leans in and kisses me, and a minute later, his lips are basically attached to mine and he has me pushed up against the wall in our bedroom.

"Are you two done fighting now?" Gavroche asks loudly. He knocks on the door that I locked a while ago.

"Mmm… Gav, go to bed," Enjolras mumbles. I nod, barely even thinking about the fact that Gavroche can't even see me.

"Oh. Gross."

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**A/N: Oh, fun fun fun. CBuscus helped me out with this one and I love it. Shoutout to my best grody friend CBuscus.**

**-JC, the one who is probably also grody.**


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